


The Morning After

by HappinessEscape (passicnfruit)



Series: A Number of Incredibly Un-Awe-Inspiring Logs of Kozume Kenma [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Masturbation in Shower, i don't even know what did i just write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:50:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2226318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passicnfruit/pseuds/HappinessEscape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yesterday was not Kenma's day.<br/>or, (I suppose)<br/>Kenma takes a shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> A quick drabble I wrote about the morning after a hard-hit low. I’d have liked to write a little more, but I didn’t want it to drag on, so I left it, as is. I might write about the next day (Friday), but it’s unlikely.  
> I guess kind of a sequel to "In Reality, It All Really Amounts to Nothing."

Kenma wakes up at 6:28 in the morning, and waits another twelve minutes for his first alarm to go off before he gets up. He sits up slowly, a gnawing soreness in his abdomen. He’d slept without clothing for the first time this year, and as he unblankets himself to start the day, the early-morning chill wraps itself along his exposed skin. He puts on his sweatshirt and grabs his clothes he’d picked out for the day, heading to the shower.

He hesitates in the shower room’s doorway. He’s freezing cold, and the warm steam would feel pleasant, no doubt, but he’s anxious. His stomach bubbles and turns, and his knees lock. Yesterday was not his day. He wasn’t looking forward dealing with another day, if it was going to be anything like yesterday. He slips an arm out of its sleeve and runs his fingers over his sensitive skin. He feels the raised skin of his nipples, strokes the smooth dips and rises of his ribcage, carefully caresses the sandpaper-like textured lines littering his stomach and his hips. He opens the door and his oversized sweatshirt comes off, and he is bare for all and none to see, once again.

He lowers the showerhead and pulls on the knob. The icy water attacks his skin, slamming like needles into his sensitive stomach. Kenma remembers the feeling too well. He turns his back to the water, and heaves out stale breaths. Slowly, he recovers, and turns back toward the rushing water, warming up to a comfortable temperature. It still stings, as if tiny ants were attacking his skin, but it gradually fades to a hollow hum. He shampoos and conditions his hair, washes his face, scrubs his arms, legs, and lower back, and rinses off. He really should soap his stomach, he knows, but does he have the courage to? He decides that, _today is not yesterday, today will be a good day_ , and pumps out the gentle baby soap.

He finishes washing up relatively quickly, and, with a little extra time, considers indulging in himself for just a moment. Kenma touches himself where no one else has, and soon enough, he’s huffing out quiet breaths and stifling moans. He finishes with a grunt, and lets the shower wash the evidence away. He pushes the knob to stop the downpour, crouches down onto his knees, and wipes the excess water off his face.

For the first time in months, it hurts to shower.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This week has been a rollercoaster. School is not the right place for mental disorder. (Luckily, this specific day that I wrote about was a good one. Unluckily, the next day was likely an all-time low.)


End file.
